


In The Pines, In The Pines

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Series: Nightmares [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Flashbacks, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding, Tension, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, school counselor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Dipper’s bad dreams haven’t gone away. If anything, they’re getting worse.





	1. Where the Sun Don’t Ever Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles are taken from the song _Where Did You Sleep Last Night_ by Lead Belly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper has a(nother) nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing something with multiple chapters? Hmmm... Weird flex, but alright. We’re aiming for two, but we might end up with three, so stay tuned, folks! 
> 
> I love Dipper with my heart and soul and I would die for this kid in a heartbeat.

_“I don’t like this,” Dipper says aloud._

_Everything is too quiet, too normal. The sky is bright and cheery, the woods seem nonthreatening. Gravity Falls looks just how they’d left it at the end of summer._

_But something isn’t right. Dipper can’t tell what it is, but something… something is wrong, here._

_And just as the thought solidifies, the sky rips itself open in a fiery display of colour and light. Chaos crackles around him in waves, transforming the trees around him into spooky-looking creatures with stick-like claws that immediately start advancing towards him._

_Dipper gives a shout and stumbles backwards, tripping over a crack and tumbling down to the ground. He raises his arms over his face, but he can’t seem to block out the bright, swirling portal above him. A laugh that he recognises echoes around him, and Dipper can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t—_

“Dipper?”

_—seem to do anything other than thrash backwards, throwing himself towards the shack in a desperate attempt to hide from the laughter._

_“Leave me alone!” he yells, but the laughter only gets louder._

“Dipper!”

_A yellow shape, terrifying and all-too-familiar, starts to solidify above his head, and Dipper wants to run, but he feels like he’s frozen in place. Bill Cipher finally floats above him, eye scrunched in what Dipper assumes is some convoluted pleasure, and glows like he’s about to speak._

“Dipper! Wake up!”

_“Get away from me!” Dipper shouts up at the demon. Bill only floats towards him menacingly, and Dipper tries to scramble to his feet. His limbs feel heavy, tired… He can barely swing his legs onto the ground. The world is darkening, too, the sky’s swirling colours narrowing to a point that he can barely see. He’s… tired._

“Dipper!!”

With a gasp, Dipper finally opens his eyes, and Mabel breathes a sigh of relief even as he stares unseeingly at the ceiling of their bedroom.

* * *

 

“This is the third time this week, Dip,” Mabel says softly over her cup of hot cocoa. Dipper is nursing his own mug, holding onto the cup with both hands and staring down into it like it holds the answer to a question he can’t ask. “Maybe we should tell Mom and Dad.”

Dipper scoffs harshly. “Yeah, _that’s_ a great idea,” he mutters roughly, and Mabel shrinks into her chair a little further, holding her cup over her face.

“...ah, geez. Sorry, Mabel. I didn’t mean—“ Dipper looks genuinely sorry when he glances up to see Mabel hiding, and she does her best to breathe through the hurt. Her brother hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in weeks, and between homework stress and the nightmares, he’s got a valid reason to be grumpy.

She can’t pretend her heart isn’t hurting, but she can do her best to keep it under wraps until they can talk it through in the daylight.

“—It’s just… I don’t know what we’d say. They won’t believe us if we tell them the truth, and anything else might put Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford in a bad light, and our parents might not let us go back to Gravity Falls next summer.” The thought of not being allowed to go back to her grunkles, to Candy and Grenda and Wendy… No. That’s just not allowed. “I don’t know what to tell them, Mabel. I just… I have to deal with this on my own.”

Mabel pushes herself upright again. “You have me,” she offers lightly. “And hot chocolate.”

Dipper nods once, slowly, and offers her the ghost of a smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Mabel smiles back at him, and for a moment, in the darkness of their kitchen, things don’t seem so bleak. But then Dipper’s smile falls away, and he looks so forlorn that Mabel just wants to reach out and squish his cheeks until she can mold it like clay back into a happy face.

“I just wish I could stop having these nightmares.” Dipper sounds _exhausted,_ his voice as heavy as Waddles is getting. “I’m so tired, but every time I fall asleep, it’s just…” He gestures helplessly, nearly upsetting his mug in the process.

Mabel knows what he means. She’s been spared, most nights, of any bad dreams of her own, but she’s well-aware of Dipper’s troubles. She’s the one who wakes him from the nightmares, most of the time, if Dipper doesn’t wake himself up before she hears him mumbling and thrashing around in his bed.

At first, Dipper had been terrified, because the nightmares had featured Bill in many of them, and he’d been terrified that the dream demon had somehow found a way back to him. Mabel had done her best to reassure him that there was no way for it to happen; they’d _killed_ Bill. He was gone for good. They’d even video-chatted with their grunkles to confirm it. And Ford had been positive that there was no way for Bill to be back, so Mabel had felt more than vindicated.

The nightmares remained, though, and Dipper had more than just the few about Bill. He had the recurring one that he’d had on the bus, about the alien spaceship and Grunkle Ford getting grunkle-napped, one about Mabel refusing to leave the bubble, one about Wendy turning into a pile of bugs and putrid things. They varied, but he had one _every time_ he slept. Some of them were mild, but most of them were cruel and terrible.

“There’s gotta be _something_ we can do to make them go away,” Mabel states. She’s downright determined to help Dipper, even though they’ve… had this conversation before, and it never really _goes_ anywhere. They have it every time this happens, when they sit in the kitchen or the living room or their room or —the few times Dipper has needed to throw up after a dream— the bathroom, and they talk about what they could do and what they’ve tried and anyone that can help them. Nothing so far has worked.

“I don’t know, Mabel.”

“C’mon, Dipper, we can’t give up.”

Dipper sighs heavily and takes a gulp of his cocoa. He sets the mug on the table before dropping his head down on top of his arms, groaning quietly into his wrist. “What’s the point? We’ll try something ridiculous and it won’t work, and I’ll never be able to sleep again.”

“Dipper.” Mabel sets her own cup down and reaches over the table, settling her hand gravely on top of Dipper’s head. His hair is just greasy enough to suggest that he hasn’t been bathing quite as much as he should be, and she resists the urge to pull away and wipe her hand on her pyjamas. As strong as it is, Dipper needs her. “We can’t give up. You deserve a good night’s sleep! We can ask Grunkle Ford if he has any other ideas, or… or…” She casts about for something, anything, any other ideas she can think of. “What about Miss. Lisa?”

“The school counselor?” Dipper asks, raising his head. Mabel boops Dipper’s nose, just because it’s there, before retracting her hand. “What _about_ her?”

“What if you talked to her about your nightmares?” Mabel suggests. “You wouldn’t have to tell her that any of them were _real_ stuff that happened. You could just… tell her about them, and she’ll just call them crazy dreams. _But,_ she might be able to help you figure out therapist-y ways to stop them.”

Dipper doesn’t look incredibly convinced, but he _does_ have that expression on his face that means he’s giving the issue a delicate amount of thought. “Maybe,” he says, and she knows he means it. “For now, I just wanna try and sleep through the rest of the night.”

Mabel finishes off her own hot cocoa and then reaches for Dipper’s cup. She takes them both to the sink, rinses them, and stacks them into the dishwasher as quietly as she can before linking her arm with one of Dipper’s and tugging him up until he’s standing beside her.

“C’mon, brobro. Let’s get you to bed.”

She swears Dipper is half-asleep as they ascend the stairs to their room, and when she tucks him in and ruffles his hair fondly, his breathing has already evened out entirely.


	2. I Would Shiver The Whole Night Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper talks to the school counsellor. It goes about as well as talking to a school counsellor ever goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of really negative experiences with the “on-site therapists” in middle and high school, and I can only imagine that it’s a fairly universal experience. This is turning into a story that’s closer to home than I expected... Bear with me, folks.

“I think I’m going to talk to Miss Lisa,” Dipper says quietly between bites of cereal, his legs tucked underneath him in his chair at the breakfast table. 

Mabel glances up from the back of the cereal box she’s been poring intently over —she’s going to FIND the matching clovers if it kills her!— and raises both of her eyebrows towards her brother. Their parents are in the next room, conversing in low tones about their dad’s job; it’s easier to tune them out than to try to eavesdrop, and it makes her a little more confident that their parents aren’t going to try and eavesdrop on them. 

“Really?” she asks. She kinda hates how surprised she feels, because… it  _ is _ a good idea. It felt like a good idea when she’d thought of it the night before, and it still feels like a good idea now. Dipper likes good ideas. He’s smart like that. 

He doesn’t always think that Mabel’s ideas are good ideas, but… it’s fine. She doesn’t mind. 

Much. 

At least this time, it seems that Mabel’s idea is smart enough for Dipper to consider. That’s nice. She puts the cereal box down on the table next to her bowl and leans forward, so that there’s even less of a chance of Dipper having to talk loud enough for their parents to hear. 

“Yeah.” There are dark, lined bags underneath Dipper’s eyes. His sleeping habits have been throwing him off so much at home that their parents have even noticed it, which is… hard, because Dipper is a terrible liar, and he keeps coming up with reasons he looks so bad that have nothing to do with sleep. Eventually, Mabel’s pretty sure their mom is going to interrogate  _ her  _ instead, and Mabel isn’t looking forward to cracking under pressure. She doesn’t want to betray Dipper’s trust, but their mom is one tough cookie. 

Mm, cookies. She wishes she was having cookies for breakfast, instead of cereal. 

“If I don’t try  _ something  _ else, I think I’m going to go insane,” Dipper admits quietly. “I fell asleep in social studies yesterday, and when I woke up, I called the teacher Grunkle Ford by accident. It was really embarrassing.”

Mabel bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. It’s embarrassing for Dipper! It’s certainly not funny! Not even a little tiny bit. 

“Will you come to the office with me to make an appointment?” Dipper asks her, and Mabel nods enthusiastically. 

“Of course!” She chomps on a big bite of cereal, revelling in the sugary taste on her tongue. “Anything for you, brobro. I’m proud of you.”

Dipper stirs his cereal around; Mabel’s pretty sure she can see the hint of a tired smile on his face. “Thanks, Mabes.” 

* * *

“I  _ hate  _ Miss Lisa,” Dipper tells her emphatically that night, bursting into their room and collapsing on his own bed. Mabel, curled up on hers with her homework in her lap, looks up in concern as Dipper shoves a pillow over his head and gives a muffled, wordless yell into it. 

He’s quiet enough to keep their parents from checking on them, but his frustration is pained and palpable enough that Mabel immediately drops her pencil, shoves her homework aside, and crosses the room to clamber onto Dipper’s bed beside him.

“What happened?” 

Dipper pushes the pillow off of his face. “Do you think this ‘Bill Cipher’ is just a figment of your anxiety tryin’ to manifest itself in your dreams, sweetie?” he says in a condescending southern drawl, in an obvious imitation of their school counselor. He waves his hands vaguely in the air above himself as he talks, and he says “Cipher” like “Saah-fer. It makes Mabel feel a little sick. “She told me to drink chamomile tea and not to play video games before bed. I don’t  _ play _ video games before bed, Mabel!” 

Mabel pats his chest reassuringly, because it’s currently the closest part of Dipper to her hand. “I know, brobro.” She leaves her hand there, and Dipper makes a disgruntled harrumphing sound, but he doesn’t push her away. “I’m sorry she’s such a jerk.” It sucks, it sucks so much, because it was technically Mabel’s idea to talk to Miss Lisa and so it’s technically her fault that Dipper didn’t get any help from her. “We’ll just have to figure out something else to help you sleep.”

“I don’t know if there  _ is  _ anything else.” In a flash, Dipper’s anger melts away, leaving him sounding hollow and tired. “We keep trying stuff, and it keeps just… not working. Maybe I’m just  _ doomed  _ to keep having these horrible nightmares forever.”

“Dipper.” Mabel knows she sounds utterly unimpressed, but she can’t  _ help  _ it. Her brother can be so unerringly dramatic! And all she’s trying to do is help him. “We can’t give up. There has to be something. Maybe Grunkle Ford—“

“Grunkle Ford’s best idea is to not shower for two weeks and hope that your stench drives the nightmares away,” Dipper snaps, and Mabel jerks her hand away from him. He’s been doing that more often, snapping at her. It hurts a dumb amount, because she knows in her heart that Dipper doesn’t mean to do it. She gets grumpy when she’s tired, too; it’s only logical that Dipper be grumpy when he hasn’t slept right in weeks. Still, it makes her feel… bad. Dipper is her brother, and he’s… being mean to her. 

They don’t do  _ mean,  _ not to each other. They’re the Mystery Twins! They’re supposed to have each other’s backs. 

Mabel feels her eyes stinging, so she blinks a few times and looks down at Dipper’s comforter.  _ Don’t think about how sad it makes you when Dipper gets grumpy. Think about… kittens! And rainbows! And glitter!  _

Like he always does when he’s gone too far, Dipper sighs heavily and pushes himself upright, looking at her imploringly. 

“It’s fine,” Mabel says quickly, before he can actually apologise. She doesn’t want to cry, and she just knows that she will if he tries to make amends. She just wants to get the focus off of herself,  _ needs  _ to keep the focus on Dipper and the problem he’s trying to solve, instead of on her and her dumb emotions. “I just… I don’t think you’re doomed, Dip. That doesn’t seem fair. There’s gotta be a way to fix this, I just  _ know  _ it.”

Dipper sighs just again, and then looks over to the clock on the nightstand between their beds. “It’s getting late.”

He’s implying that they should sleep, but Mabel is well-aware that Dipper probably won’t even try until he absolutely has to. “Dipper…”

“You should go to bed, Mabel,” Dipper says, and Mabel can’t stand the finality in his tone. He  _ sounds _ like Grunkle Ford, even if he’s currently annoyed with him. “We have school tomorrow.”

Mabel stares at him, imploring, silent, but Dipper doesn’t meet her gaze. He picks at his comforter instead of paying her any attention, and finally, she gives up, because there’s no point in trying if she can’t even make her brother look at her.

“G’night, Dipper,” she whispers as she leaves his bed and pads back to her own. She shoves her unfinished homework halfway under her bed to deal with in the morning. 

Dipper’s pen light doesn’t click off for as long as it takes Mabel to fall asleep; she’s not sure what he’s reading, but it feels like it would be more trouble than it’s worth to roll over and ask.   
  



	3. Where Did You Sleep Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper has a flashback and the Grunkles have an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for discussion of PTSD and a flashback/panic attack.

Dipper’s already gone from his bed by the time Mabel gets up in the morning. When she gets to the table, she finds him halfway through his breakfast, and he doesn’t even say anything to her when she sits down to pour her own cereal. So she doesn’t say anything either, even though it feels…  _ wrong,  _ to not even acknowledge him with a simple  _ good morning.  _

They eat together in silence, and when they’re done, they strap on their backpacks in silence and leave the house in silence. Mabel does her best to ignore the growing sense of trepidation, the alarm blaring in her head that  _ something is wrong.  _

Dipper chooses a seat on the bus beside a boy they’ve never sat with before; they don’t speak to each other, but the boy doesn’t tell him to move, either, which leaves Mabel feeling even more hurt as she fends for herself to find a seat. She winds up next to a girl she’s spoken to a few times with dinosaur stickers on the notebook she has in her lap. 

When Mabel compliments the stickers out of habit, the girl —who reintroduces herself as Emma, not that Mabel’s really listening— smiles wide and launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the different types of dinosaur stickers she’s managed to collect. Mabel smiles and nods and laughs in all the right places, but her heart feels like it’s dropped straight into her stomach. It’s  _ distracting.  _

And Dipper has his arms wrapped around himself tightly, head tilted down, which keeps drawing Mabel’s attention, too. 

School is as exhausting as it always is, but the classes she has without Dipper are a little easier to cope with. She doesn’t have to think about the weird way her brother seems to be ignoring her when she has to focus her attention on the rise and fall of the Mesopotamian civilization.

When she walks into their shared English class and Dipper isn’t there, Mabel’s a little concerned, but her first assumption is that he’s just late because he’s tired, which is making him slow. That makes enough sense to her. 

But halfway through the period, when they’re supposed to pair off to read poetry, Mabel abruptly realises that Dipper still hasn’t shown up. An inexplicable fear settles in her chest. She’d just  _ known  _ that something was wrong. 

With one of her quarterly bathroom passes in hand, Mabel leaves the classroom and is halfway down the hall before she realises that she has absolutely no idea where Dipper might be. She  _ desperately  _ wishes they had some kind of Twin Powers, because it would make it so much easier to know what was going on if she could read his mind or something. As it is, she sets off wandering, up one hall and down the next, glancing around corners and into empty classrooms. 

It feels like a miracle when she hears a strangled sob from behind a trash can near the cafeteria. 

“Dipper?” Concern bleeds heavily from Mabel’s voice. She steps around the trash can to find Dipper wiggled in between it and the wall, his face contorted in fear.

“Stay away from me,” he hisses, but it’s pained, and he curls tighter in on himself as Mabel kneels down beside him. She can barely  _ breathe.  _

“What happened?” she asks in a murmur, trying desperately not to sound as scared as she feels. Dipper stares somewhere over her shoulder and then abruptly throws his hands over his face. 

“No!” It comes out in a yell, and Mabel glances behind her, relieved and even more confused to find nothing there except for a neon-bright poster advertising the Back To School Dance taking place at the end of the week. 

“Leave me alone,” Dipper says, and it’s that false confidence in his voice that keeps Mabel from flinching, because  _ that’s  _ how Dipper sounds when he’s scared, and he’s not scared of Mabel. They’re never scared of each other. 

Dipper flinches back, but when Mabel slowly reaches out to touch him, he doesn’t respond. She’s not even sure he’s reacting to  _ her,  _ anymore. 

“I don’t want you to hurt her.” It comes out in a sob, and— oh. Oh no. 

Dipper is  _ crying. _

There are tears running freely down his cheeks, and he starts to sob, his body shaking violently with each repressed cry he holds back. Mabel can’t help the way she crowds in behind the trash can. She doesn’t think, she just  _ acts,  _ because Dipper is crying and he needs her and she’s so scared that something is happening to him that she won’t be able to fix. 

Dipper shudders unresponsively in her grip for nearly a full minute before he melts into her hug and shoves his snotty nose against her shoulder. “Mabel,” he mumbles, and Mabel can take a breath again. “Mabel, I—“ 

Mabel shushes him gently, petting at his hair. “It’s okay, brobro. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Dipper whispers as his body continues to tremble. Mabel tightens her grip, feels Dippers arms slowly come to settle around her in a return of her hug. 

She doesn’t know, either, but she’s desperate to make sure that she does whatever she can to keep Dipper from feeling hopeless about whatever just happened to him. 

So Mabel squeezes him and then pats him twice on the back, lightly. “We’ll figure it out,” she assures him softly. “C’mon. Let’s sneak outside and hide behind the bleachers until class is over.”

Dipper pulls away, and Mabel un-squishes herself from behind the trash can, and Mabel reaches for Dippers hand to pull him up. He grips it tightly and doesn’t let go when they start walking towards the doors at the end of the hall, so Mabel holds on tight and lets him follow. 

* * *

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Ford says bluntly, his voice slightly tinny on the speaker of Dipper’s computer. “Have you ever heard of it?”

Their parents are gone for the evening, some work party or another, and Mabel had suggested they contact their Grunkles to try and get some answers about Dipper’s fear that Bill might be back. With nightmares slipping into day terrors, it’s more of a concern than it had even been before. 

Grunkle Ford doesn’t look worried about Bill, though. His eyes are crinkled with worry, instead, that’s directed solely at Dipper. It’s obvious, even with the camera slightly to the left of his actual gaze. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Dipper says immediately, voice thick with exhaustion. He never sounds anything  _ but  _ exhausted anymore. “Isn’t that something that, like, soldiers end up getting?”

“Not just soldiers,” Stan pipes up with from behind the camera. He’d said hello to the twins when the call had first begun, but had soon settled on what Ford had said was his bunk, and was only listening to the kids talk to his brother while occasionally chiming in. “Anyone can get PTSD, believe you me.”

“Stanley is correct,” Ford agrees quietly, gravely. “Any person who experiences an experience awful enough to create a traumatic stress response in the brain can and often  _ will  _ develop Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” He looks troubled, very troubled, which is  _ not  _ what Mabel had been hoping for from this conversation. She sneaks a look at Dipper, only to find him staring intently at the screen, disbelief etched into his features. “It’s unfortunate, Dipper, but I believe —if what you are telling me is accurate— that your experiences this past Summer with Bill were enough to create that negative response in your brain.”

“What can we do?” Mabel asks, setting her jaw and sitting up straight when it becomes obvious that Dipper isn’t about to respond. 

“Lots and lotsa therapy, kiddos,” Stan interrupts Ford before he can answer, stepping into the frame behind Ford with his hands on Ford’s shoulders. Ford shoots him a disgruntled look. “It’s not easy, but you’ll figure out a way to live with it. You just gotta find workarounds. And avoid stuff that makes you feel bad.”

Ford shrugs Stan’s hands off of him. “While that’s a rather simple way of putting it, Stanley is, once again, not incorrect.”

“Funny way’a sayin’ I’m right, Sixer,” Stan mutters, crossing his arms. Ford promptly ignores him. 

“Avoiding negative stimulus that causes you to revert back to your traumatised state is imperative to your healing process. I will be with you as much as I can and answer any questions you have, and…” Ford’s attention shifts to Mabel. She feels his gaze on her and bites her lip, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. She isn’t going to cry. She  _ isn’t.  _ “Mabel, you’re going to have to help.”

“I wouldn’t do anything else.” Mabel nudges Dipper’s knee with her own under the table, and he glances towards her with a haunted look in his eyes before his features soften carefully. The crease in his brow doesn’t completely vanish, but it does become less pronounced. 

“You’ll be alright, my boy,” Ford says from the screen. “But it will be a bumpy road. You can always call if you need us.”

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper says at last, turning back to the screen. Ford waves a six-fingered hand at them, obviously preparing to sign off, when Dipper adds, “Hey, Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah, kid?”

Dipper looks like he’s struggling for a moment before he opens his mouth again. “How do I know it isn’t real?”

Ford looks confused, but Mabel focuses in on Grunkle Stan’s face. He looks surprised at the question, and then his features become  _ older,  _ somehow, like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes instead of just one. 

“Aw, kid…” Stan shakes his head, rubs a hand over his face. “Ya just gotta find your anchor, Dipper. Get somethin’ that tethers you to reality and make sure you can always find it.”

Mabel doesn’t miss the way Dipper’s gaze darts to her, watching him the way she is out of the corner of her eye. Stan looks at her, too, as if following Dipper’s gaze, and she stares back at the screen resolutely, pretending she doesn’t notice any of it. 

“Okay.” Dipper takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”

“‘A course, kiddo. You get some sleep, alright? You too, Mabel. You both look like you could use it.”

Mabel can only raise a hand to wave at the screen and give her best attempt at a smile. 

“Alright. G’bye, Grunkle Stan. Grunkle Ford,” Dipper says. He clicks the little red ‘x’ at the top of the page, and the screen goes dark. 

It reflects their own faces back to them, pale and grim in the soft lamplight of their room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not the most positive note, and there’s a part of me that thinks I could theoretically continue this, but I’m not having fun writing it anymore. Getting this last chapter out was a hard one, so I think I’m gonna cut my losses here. 
> 
> That all being said, I hope y’all enjoyed, or at least... y’know. Felt some Feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans!


End file.
